Buckets of Rain
by politically-inc0rrect
Summary: Ryan Ross was a nobody, a loser. He was held back for one grade. Brendon Urie was the new kid, always smiling and happy. Ryden/Rydon. My summaries suck, I guarantee that my stories are better.
1. Chapter 1

Of course it was raining. I watched as the little droplets of water trickled down my window. The streets would soon be flooded, because when it rains. It _rains._ Cars drove by, careful around the bigger puddles in the road. The book open in my lap soon closed as I got up. I didn't even bother with a bookmark. I never finish the book anyway. I stuck it on my bookshelf that was more filled with CD's rather than actual books. My stereo laid in the corner of the room on a nightstand. I carefully looked at every single CD, soon picking a Beatles album. I travelled across the room, opened the machine, and put the disc in. I waited a total of twenty seconds before the first song started playing. I then made my way back to my bed, lying down so I can possibly get some sleep.

Tomorrow was my first day of my senior year, after all.

I awoke the next morning to Spencer shoving a pillow in my face. I ignored him at first, letting the pounding continue. Then he dropped the pillow and full-out punched me in the gut. I sat up, coughing, and shot him the finger. He just laughed and went back across the hall to his room. I got up, slowly stretching. I tried to take as much time as possible; I tried delaying school for as long as I could.

The floor creaked under me as I fully stood up. My bare feet walk across the floor towards my dresser. I pull out the top drawer, clean pair of boxers. The next drawer contained a black v-neck I've been meaning to wear. And the bottom drawer held my favorite pair of denim skinny jeans. My foot wear for the day was Converse. No surprise there.

After dressing, I ran down the stairs. Spencer's mother already had a box of cereal out and some pancakes. I smiled before I started to pile on the food. I poured syrup over my pancakes before fully digging in.

"Thank," swallow, "you," swallow, "Mrs.," swallow, "Smith," I managed to finally spit out in between bites. I mean, the woman did let me stay here on the night before school started.

"Oh, it' no problem honey!" She smiled at me. "And for the last time, call me Ginger. I sound like an old lady with 'Mrs. Smith.'" She laughed. "Are you going to be staying again tonight?"

"No, probably not, you know my father," I almost groaned. She shook her head and exited the room.

I finished my breakfast, dumping my plate out in the sink. Spencer followed my motions. I then grabbed my backpack from beside the front door and headed out. Spencer was at my heels. When we reached my car, he got in the passenger's seat as I got in the driver's seat. I put my keys in the ignition, starting the old car up, and pulled out of the parking lot.

Now, I know I may seem old to be a senior, but that's only because I had a teacher who wouldn't pass me in government. I mean, seriously? So now I'm here again, retaking half of my classes, but that's okay because halfway through the day I can leave before anybody else.

I found a parking spot about halfway between the school and the end of the parking lot. Spencer and I got out, immediately separating ways. I'm quiet and weird. I practically don't have any friends in the school. People try to avoid me at any cost. Spencer's completely opposite. People love him. People admire him. We're best friends, yes, but that's only outside of school. Other than that we're not seen talking together.

I manage to make it to my first period without anybody attacking me, and I'm slightly proud of my accomplishment. I find a seat in the back and wait for the bell to ring. Familiar faces flooded the room. I've seen them all before, I just haven't spoken to them, which is for the better. And I'll try not to speak to them for the year. I stayed in the back, quiet, as the rest of the room fills up with different people. No one even seems to notice me.

Oh, and guess what my first period is?

You got it, government.

Kids finished piling in, and the announcements started. I never listened to them, I stood up for the Pledge like every other normal kid, but sat back down and zoned out. I waited for the familiar click of the speaker to sound before directing my attention back to the teacher. He called out role, I merely raised my hand. Nobody bothered turning around in my direction. My teacher only gave me a smirk, I returned a glare.

He started for the board, writing down the beginning of the year assignment, an essay about inspiration. I would just turn in my essay on the Beatles. Easy enough. I watched as the class slowly starts to panic. I mean, it was five pages, but if they really inspired you, it shouldn't be an issue. Right? I aimlessly scribbled on my notebook, not expecting any real notes for the day. I then reached over to my backpack, and silently retrieved another notebook. One I've been writing in for the whole summer. Only about a quarter of it remained blank, waiting for someone's words. My words. I opened the notebook up to a blank page and started writing.

I didn't write anything coherent. I usually just scribbled down words. I would later read them over, rearrange them, and have a poem of sorts. Or sometimes I would actually write journal entries. Those aren't completely out of the question either. Either way, I liked to write. And when I wasn't writing in one of the numerous notebooks I had in my possession, I was playing guitar. Something I only tried to do when my father wasn't home. He hated my music, and it was just asking for trouble if I wanted to play.

My head popped up when I heard the door open. I stop writing and looked to see a younger looking man walking in. He had on a pair of jeans, Converse, and a Beatles shirt. I smirked at him. He was in a pair of red framed glasses and his hair was teased upwards. His brown eyes shined through his frames and he radiated happy.

"Excuse me?" The teacher looked rather pissed.

"Oh, I am so sorry, Mr.- Uh-."

"Johnson."

"Right, Johnson, I apologize. It's my first day and I got lost and I am so very sorry. Here's-here's my n-note," the kid looked scared to death. At this time I took a look at the clock. We were halfway through class. Johnson wasn't going to love this.

"Alright, take a seat next to Mr. Ross," I snapped back in to reality when my named was mentioned. "Oh, and your name?"

"Urie, Brendon, Urie," he smiled.

"Alright, Mr. Urie, take that seat right there," Johnson motioned towards the seat next to me.

I bent my head back down and focused on my writing as Brendon came and sat next to me. He didn't say anything at first. He smelled good, though. Then he suddenly started whispering to me.

"So, uh, what's our assignment?" I looked up to a bright and smiling Brendon Urie. I pointed my pen to the board and scowled. "What, cat got your tongue?" He laughed.

I quickly ripped out a sheet of paper, thank God nobody turned back to look at me, and quickly wrote, _I don't like talking._ Then I passed the sheet of paper back to him. Brendon didn't say anything back; he just picked up a pencil from his bag and wrote something down. I got the paper back and read, _so I guess we'll just pass notes then?_ I silently laughed at the note and picked my pen back up. _If you don't mind. I prefer it this way._ I waited for him to respond when the bell rang. I picked up my bag, but not before Brendon handing the note back to me. As I walked out of the classroom and to English, I unfolded the paper and read; _you're going to put up a Hell of a fight, aren't you? Anyway, maybe I'll talk to you again soon. Bye Ross. _

Why I was blushing at the note, I don't know. I just knew that this Brendon kid was going to give me a run for my money.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day of school was eerily similar to the first. Brendon came and sat next to me in government, and we would just pass notes the whole time. I found out a lot about the kid. Apparently his mother loved to move around, but he's here to stay until he graduates. This was good for me because he was, like, my only friend here, so I was going to try my best to not offend him in anyway way possible.

It was sunny today. And it was also Friday. I made my way up to the government in a jacket and jeans. I hated sunny days, and I would be happy when I could get back home. Even if it was with my father. I claimed my usual seat in the back, and immediately got out my Beatles essay that was due today along with my notebook. I flipped to a blank page, waiting for Brendon's arrival. Like every other day, three minutes before the bell rang, Brendon entered the room. He walked back to me, giving me a smile, and sat down.

"_Hey," _I wrote down, sliding the notebook his way. The other day I got a notebook just for our conversations.

"_Hi, why are you in a jacket today? It's hot out,"_ he wrote back.

"_It's a jacket kind of day," _I shrugged my shoulders when he looked my way after reading what I wrote.

"_I like you, Ross. Do you want to hang out after school?"_

"_Are you serious?"_

"_Uh, yes? Why wouldn't I be?" _He chuckled.

"_Sure," _I wrote back, my stomach already doing flips.

"_Alright, here's my number," _and next to the scribbles he wrote down a series of numbers. _"Just call me later?"_

"_Okay," _I wrote back.

For the rest of the class we talked about our inspirations. Apparently he chose the Beatles too. If Johnson even thought I would talk to his students outside of class then we would've gotten in trouble for writing about the same people. But Johnson thought I was just as socially awkward as everyone else did and left me alone on the subject.

The rest of the day went by quickly. In English we started poetry, something I was always good at. So I quickly finished my assignments, and then I went home to get ready for my day with Brendon.

My father was asleep in the living room, and didn't even hear me as I walked in. I silently trotted up the stairs to my room. An old creaky bed lay in the corner, a dresser in front of it. And other than my guitar in the corner, the room was eerily bare. It was musky and it did need to be dusted well. I enjoyed Spencer's house more. It was warmer. It was more inviting.

I walked across the room to my dresser. I then gave up on changing because I was just going to slip on a jacket anyway. No matter how warm it was outside. I looked at the clock that lie on my dresser and found that it was only three. School let out not that long ago.

So I decided that I would wait until four to call Brendon. I didn't want to seem too pushy. So I passed the time writing in my notebooks. Today I finally decided to write in my journal entry notebook.

_Hello, old friend,_

_I apologize for not keeping you up to date like I used to._

_It's been a long time since I've talked to you, and here I am to make it up. _

_Things have been going well, I suppose. Father's been quiet the whole school year, really. I know, almost unbelievable, but I give him props for doing so. The school year's been relatively boring. Just like last year. Nothing much has changed. I've kept quiet. I tried to stay out of everybody's way. And so far I have succeeded. There hasn't been any run ins with people I don't like. Then again, this is a whole new crowd. They don't know much about me. _

_There has only been one time I've given in since the last time I've talked to you. It was recently. I just couldn't help myself. My father was out, and it was the perfect chance. I'm so very sorry for doing so. I know it would upset you. I know it pains you to know that I do such things to myself. But I'm getting better. I have someone now._

_Yes, I have found someone that makes me happy. I haven't spoken to him, yet. I just write. You know how I am with strangers. We have government together, and we pass notes. Apparently his mother likes to move around a lot, and that's how he ended up here. But he said he's here to say for the rest of the year, and that makes me happy._

_His name's Brendon Urie. An odd name, I know, but I love it. He's got beautiful brown hair with beautiful brown eyes. And his pale white skin makes him glow. He's always happy, and he makes me smile. He makes me smile more than Spencer does._

_Oh, you remember Spencer, don't you? That bastard who's only my friend outside of school? Of course, how could you forget? Yes, he housed me the first night of school. I was thankful for that, but he hasn't been good to me since. It's only okay with me because I have Brendon. Oh, and that reminds me, I have dinner with Brendon tonight. I suppose I should be calling him and asking him where we should meet now._

_Thank you, friend._

_Forever yours,_

_Ryan Ross._

I was happy with my writing, and read it over, smiling about the part with Brendon. I glanced back up the clock. It read 3:45. I guess I should really start to get ready, then. I picked up the phone, after finding his number down in my notebook. After a couple of rings, I got an answer.

"Hello?"

"This is Ryan, is Brendon there?"

"Ryan! Hey, it's Brendon. What's up?"

"Wondering when we should meet and where."

"Oh yeah! How about I come pick you up where do you live?"

"Corner of 4th and Fremont Street."

"Easy enough, I'll be there in ten minutes! See you then."

"Yeah, bye," and before I hung up I heard him say something. "What?"

"I like your voice."

And the line went dead.

Realization hit me after I dropped the phone on my bed. My cheeks got red long after he said that he liked hearing my voice. I can't believe I talked to him. I slowly swallowed my fears once I realized I only had five minutes to get ready. I slipped my shoes back on and teased my hair back up almost in to a Mohawk, but not quite. By the time I finished, Brendon was at my door.

I ran down the steps, calling out to my dad telling him I was going out with a friend. He laughed in response. I walked out the front door as Brendon pulled up the driveway. I shot him a smile as he saw me.

I hopped in the passenger's seat, and he started driving off before I even got my seatbelt on. Brendon hadn't changed from earlier today. He was still in a pair of Converse and a pair of flair jeans. He wasn't wearing his glasses, which I found odd. I've only seen him in the red-wired framed glasses, it was different seeing is face without them. His red plaid shirt was button up until you saw the top of his black undershirt. Oh, and he smelled fabulous.

We drove a little while until I didn't recognize the street signs. I didn't even know where we were.

"_Where exactly are we? And where are we going_?" I signed, careful to not speak again.

Brendon only laughed, "You'll see."

"_You know sign language?"_

"Yeah, my dad's deaf. I learned it when I was younger. You, I know, are not deaf. So why do you choose to do this? Even after I've heard your voice."

"_It's a long story."_

"I have time."

"_Later, Brendon."_

So I waited in the car. My fingers nervously danced along the console, waiting to arrive at our destination. Then I felt a hand over mine, and looked over to see Brendon's hand on mine.

"Your hand was making too much noise." I only smiled.

So I tried to calm myself down, and focused on the trees and bushes passing by. I watched as more and more disappeared behind us, and we travelled deeper in to the unknown. The day started ending with sun going down. Soon it was almost completely dark.

"_Brendon, seriously, where are we going_?"

"We're almost here, hold on."

So I sighed, and waited for him to pull in to a parking lot. There were trees lining the row ahead of us. I quirked an eyebrow and he just smiled. So I followed him as he got out of the car. I waited as he pulled a blanket and a basket out of the trunk. Then I followed him towards the line of trees. I walked behind him as he led me a spot where you can walk in between them, and it took us to a beach. The beach was bare, we were the only people there, and the waves crashed against the shore. I gasped, Brendon merely smirked.

"Worth the wait, right?"

I only smiled and nodded my head. Brendon led me out to the middle of the beach, and set down the blanket and basket. He pulled out food and drinks and we went ahead and dug in to the sandwiches. We ate silently. Then he started talking.

"So, tell me about yourself."

"_Why?" _I signed.

"I'm just curious."

"_My name's Ryan and I hate people. I like to write and I don't like to talk."_

"No, no, do you have a girlfriend?"

"_I'm gay."_ I didn't look at him, but I could feel his eyes on me.

"Cool," he said. "So, do you have a boyfriend?"

I laughed, "_No, people don't like me."_

"I like you."

"_I like you too," _I smiled.

"Why don't you talk?"

"_Why do you care?"_

"I like your voice."

"_I know."_

It was silent after that. We finished eating, him eating more than I did, and then laid down to look at the stars. Our shoulders were barely touching, not like I noticed or anything.

"Talk to me, Ross," he finally said. "I mean it. The night's almost over, and I've given you all of this and the least you could do is speak to me."

I got up and stared at him. He was on the beach and I was standing, staring down at him.

"_Nice try, fucker,"_ I signed. _"We should probably get back."_

"Do you even know how to have fun?"

"_Of course I do."_

"Whatever, Ryan. Stay for a while. It's such a beautiful night," he moved his arms around, motioning towards the sky.

I sat back down as he sat up. We faced each other, almost daring one to say something. But we didn't. We kept quiet, taking each other in. He looked at me in the eye, leaning in.

"What are you doing?" I blurted out.

"You just talked! Holy fuck, I got Ryan Ross to talk!"

I immediately closed my mouth and stormed back to the car. Brendon called after me, but I kept going. I _spoke _in front of him. What the fuck, Ryan? How could I slip that easily? How could I let him get to me that easily? I opened the passenger door furiously, more mad at myself than at him. I watched as he hastily jammed the blanket and empty food containers into the basket and run to the car. I watched him clamber through the tree fence and finally reach me. I looked at him, sad. I meant for it to be mad, but I was more upset that I acted like that with him rather than actually talking. I don't even talk in front of my dad. We use simple hand motions to speak to each other with. It's not like we talk on a regular basis anyway.

Brendon came to the driver's side and slipped in the car. He didn't bother turning the vehicle on, but instead he just sat there staring out the window. I finally looked over at him. Then I figured it was as good of a time as any.

"My dad, uh, he's not exactly right in the head. He used to hit me, you know?" He's not panicking, but he looks like he's about to. "So I used to take his beatings, my mother left long before this all started. Selfish bitch didn't take me with her. One day, father told me I don't have the right to speak. He said I wasn't worth it. We were at a party, he was already pissed I came in black, and then he took me aside and blew up on me. I couldn't talk for the rest of the night. I was seven. It just stuck. I don't talk to anybody except Spencer, and you, I guess, now. I just… I was never worth it to anyone. Even my teachers don't want to talk to me," I shrug.

"Spencer? You're friends with him? I wouldn't be able to tell."

"Well, not really. We're only friends when we're not at school."

"Some friend you got there."

"I need one, don't I? Yeah, yeah, he sucks, but I just deal with it. I really need someone I can trust, and I can trust him."

"Hmph. Well, if you need a place to stay. My mother's not the best, but I assure you-."

"No, I don't need pity. I'm fine."

"Ryan! No just-."

"_Leave it, Bren. Pretend it never happened. It'd be easier for us. Please take me home."_ I signed.

"Alright, whatever."

Brendon turned the car on and backed out of the parking lot, taking me home. I was so ready for my bed. I knew my dad wouldn't be home, he'd be out at the bars. I could sleep in. Maybe tomorrow everything will feel better and I'll text Brendon and we'll hang out and it won't be stressful.

But it will be.

Because it's Brendon.

I can't stop smiling.


End file.
